The morning after the miracle, a strange sense of calm had descended upon Dortmund. The city was quiet, as if holding its collective breath, nursing a city-wide hangover of pure joy. The streets were littered with yellow and black confetti, the remnants of a night of wild celebration. But inside the training ground at Brackel, the atmosphere was one of quiet satisfaction, of a job well done.
The players were exhausted, physically and emotionally drained. But there was a new sense of belief in their eyes, a new spring in their step. They had stared into the abyss and had not blinked. They had faced one of Europe's giants and had emerged victorious. They were no longer the plucky underdogs; they were genuine contenders.
